


The Chain

by castaliareed



Series: Ghost Wolves and Other Winter Stories [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Jon Snow, Darkish Sansa, Explaining Sansa wardrobe, F/M, Hints of Bestiality, Jonsa: A Dream of Spring, Skinchanging, Wolves, season 7 re-do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 14:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19274842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castaliareed/pseuds/castaliareed
Summary: Sansa is given a gift.





	The Chain

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this to headcanon a few things. But then I realized it worked for Day 2 of the Jonsa: A Dream of Spring Challenge. So here is my long overdue contribution to the Jonsa Fandom. 
> 
> Please bear with any typos or errors. I wanted to get this up and share it.  
> But most of all enjoy the work!

The small feast had grown raucous. Sansa had not eaten much while she sat at the high table next to Jon. The Karstarks and Umbers had arrived the day before and pledged themselves to House Stark. Jon, as King, had graciously forgiven the Houses previous support of the Boltons. He had not wanted too. It was Sansa that had urged forgiveness. In the end, he only agreed when they were assured that Alys Karstark and Ned Umber would be heads of their Houses and no uncles would usurp them. Old house, new blood. The feast was to celebrate the renewed trust between the Houses. 

Sansa rose from her place at that high table, thinking it was time to speak with their bannermen. Jon was being cajoled into drinking by the big burly ginger wildling man, Tormund. She found room at a table filled with Hornwoods. The men offered her ale which she accepted despite her distaste for the drink. They were regaling each other with tales of battle heroics. Comparing how many Boltons each had killed during the battle against the family that had stolen Winterfell, her home, their home, her's and Jon's. Their voices grew louder as each sought to impress her. She smiled and laughed in turn. Her face even grew flush when one man proclaimed he had killed the most for their Lady of Winterfell. 

There was a hand on her shoulder. Sansa knew it was Jon. "Yes, we would kill a thousand men for the Lady of Winterfell," he said eyeing the Hornwoods. 

She inhaled placed her hand on his urging him to sit down. "Join us, your grace," she said. 

Jon sat next to her, straddling the bench. Beren Tallheart who was now Lord Hornwood due to his mother being the former Lord Hornwood's sister, offered Jon a mug of ale. He drank it down in one long gulp, finishing by slamming the mug on the table. The men looked between themselves before letting out deep belly laughs. Sansa let the corners of her mouth curl up. 

They refilled his mug, Jon hardly touched it this time, his attention turned to her. "You didn't eat," he stated. 

"I wasn't hungry," she said not looking at him. There was a platter of half-eaten lamb on the table. The Hornwoods, too busy drinking, had not finished the second helping of meat, yet. 

"You need to eat, Sansa," he said. Pulling his dagger from his belt, Jon stabbed at a piece of loose meat. He might have killed it himself. She thought perhaps he did or his white wolf. A sheep would be nothing for the direwolf. 

Leaning into her, Jon offered the piece of lamb on the point of his dagger. Offer? No, it was a command to eat. Sansa leaned forward opening her mouth. She pulled the meat off the dagger careful not to let the blade cut her lips. Jon's eyes never left her mouth while she chewed the soft meat. It was delicious. A bit of grease drip from the corner of her mouth. She swallowed. Her tongue darted out to try to catch the grease. She quickly brought it back in thinking that was not ladylike. The Hornwoods' eyes widened for a moment they watched their King and his half-sister. 

Jon handed her his mug of ale to wash down the lamb. When she took it and brought it to her lips, he moved closer to her. His legs still straddling the bench, causing his body to face her. Sansa directed her gaze back across the table. The new Lord Hornwood, his brother and cousin were now pretending not to notice her and the King.

A scarred hand brushed her hair away, "Did you like that?" Jon whispered in her ear.  
"It was delicious your grace," she answered taking another sip of the ale. Her eyes darted around her. 

Jon laughed, "Don't worry about them, my lady."

She followed Jon's arm down to where his hand had found a home on her thigh just underneath the table."They are our bannermen, your grace," she whispered. 

"And you are mine...my family," he reminded her as if she could forget. Yes, we are family Jon. 

Sansa swung her legs around the end of the bench in one graceful motion. She rose and using her sweetest voice said, "I'm tired your grace, goodnight" The men around her stood to bid her goodnight. She made her way out the Great Hall, through the corridors to the part of the castle where the family's chambers were located. 

The great white direwolf was waiting for her outside the door when she finally reached the Lord's Chambers. The rooms Jon insisted she take when they won Winterfell back. Sansa wished for Brienne in that moment. Her sworn sword had not yet returned from the Riverlands. Jon often insisted guards make rounds in the halls around her chamber. Sansa knew it was Ghost he wanted near her rooms. No, he wanted the beast in her rooms most nights. 

Her stomach tightened when Ghost followed her into the anteroom. He laid by the hearth making himself comfortable. Leaving the door to her bedchamber open, Sansa slipped her gown off. Changing into a nightshift and wrapping herself in a black robe. She went back into the anteroom to sit by the hearth in one of the high backed chairs. She leaned her head back closing her eyes.

When she opened her eyes again the fire had died down. The room was darker than before. Ghost was wrapped around her feet. He stirred when she shifted her legs. The beast rose to face her almost appearing as a man in the dark of the room. Their faces were nearly touching. Red eyes turned a blackish grey. She should be scared. I'm a Stark of Winterfell, a wolf just like him. Jon's wolf would never hurt me. 

"Mine, mine," she thought she heard it growl. So that's how it is. A hand, no paw touched her face. "Mine, only mine," it said again. There was a nip at her ear. 

"Down," she whispered. The wolf didn't move. His eyes boring into hers. "Down," she said again a bit stronger. It waited a moment before relenting. Sansa closed her eyes taking a breath. Ghost moved back to sit at her feet, her hand rested on his head. 

Sansa woke the next morning in her bed underneath the furs. There was no trace of the wolf. Her dreams had been filled with them. Lady, her wolf Lady had been running through the Godswood through a dusting of snow. There was something, another wolf perhaps chasing her. Lady was not afraid. Sansa remembered she began to chase the other wolf back and then...and then...the memory of the dream faded. Sansa pushed it out of her mind. Lady was gone, dead for many years now. 

Better not to think of sad things, she thought getting out of bed. Sansa quickly dressed choosing a greyish purple dress adding a wide leather belt and leather shoulder straps that wrapped around her from back to front. Sansa smiled in the mirror. She was ready to tame these Northern beasts. Ghost would learn to behave himself.

The day was a whirlwind of activity. Jon was in his solar meeting with Davos, bent over a map. She was overseeing the rebuilding of some of the castle walls and taking note of the state of their armor. When she passed Jon in the covered walkway while she was on her way back to her chambers for a quiet afternoon meal, she felt him stare at her. He said not a word, letting her pass. 

At dinner, in the Great Hall Jon was nowhere to be found. Sansa picked at her meal, eating only bits here and there washing it down with a glass of watered down wine. Young Lyanna Mormont was sat near her asking questions about winter armor. Sansa did her best to answer but her eyes wandered expecting to see Jon at any moment. 

When she had stayed at dinner long enough, Sansa excused herself to return to the Lord's Chamber. She had not slept well the night before. Exhaustion was creeping into her body. She craved the coziness of her rooms. 

Unlike the night before Ghost was nowhere to be seen in the hall outside her door. She slipped into her rooms letting out a sigh of relief as she closed the door behind her. The room was empty. But not so empty. There was a small wooden box on the table in her antechamber. A piece a parchment placed on the lid had her name, Sansa, in tight neat penmanship, Jon's hand. 

Taking a moment to look at the box, Sansa wondered what could be inside. Jon had not mentioned that he had left anything for her. She was not expecting a gift from him. She picked it up and set it down again. It was lovely made from weirwood. Smooth white wood with two direwolves carved into the top. She ran her fingers along the top and sides. 

Lifting the lid, there was a soft grey velvet pouch inside. She picked up the pouch finding it heavy, there was something hard inside. When she opened it, a silver steel hoop slid out about the size of her palm. Attached to the hoop was a very long silver chain that ended in a thin sharp point. 

Sansa ran her fingers over the metal. It was hard, heavy, well-made and not at all delicate. The chain was fine, beautiful links. The pointy end was sharp, she could take an eye out with it. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with this. A weapon or a piece of jewelry? 

Placing it back in the pouch and the pouch in the box, Sansa left the gift on the table. She prepared for bed. It was like the necklace she had worn in the Vale only different. That one had been lighter in weight. It had belonged to Lysa Arryn. She had described it to Jon one night as they sat around the fire at Castle Black. She prattled on about the clothes she had left in the Vale. Wondered if all her ill luck had come from wearing Lysa's necklace. Jon laughed saying he thought she had pretty good luck. She had made it to him after all. 

The next day, Jon did not break his fast with her. A sadness washed over her. two meals they had not taken together. She thought of her dream of Ghost. Jon couldn't know she reprimanded the beast, even slightly. Then she remembered the gift she had found. No, he was not displeased with her. 

She did not see him until she took dinner in the Great Hall. He joined her then, taking his seat next to her but he hardly spoke a word. They were not feasting that night. Sansa soon retired to her chambers. 

Once in her rooms, Sansa removed the fur she had worn over her shoulders placing it on a hook near the door. The hearth had died down but instead of calling one of her handmaids to stoke the flames, she did it herself. It didn't take long for the fire to start blazing again. 

Satisfied with the fire in the hearth, Sansa looked around the room. The flames dancing with the shadows. Wolves playing on the walls. She saw the wooden box with the chain inside on a side table in front of an oval mirror. Walking to the table, she placed her hands on the table. The mirror reflecting back her tired face, the same greyish purple woolen gown with black silk trim from the day before, a black leather belt, her leather shoulder straps that had secured the fur to her shoulders. 

Her attention moved to the box. Sansa lifted the lid. Before she could remove the velvet pouch to admire the chain again, the door behind her opened. In the mirror, she could see it was him. 

"Jon," she said turning to face him. 

Jon didn't speak while he shut the door then walked toward her. 

"You're not wearing the chain," he stated once in front of her. 

"I've never worn a piece so heavy," she glanced down at her hands as she spoke. 

Jon stepped closer sighing, "I gave it to you to wear." He walked over to the table where the box sat. Opening it and taking out the chain he admired it. "Silas did good work. He's not Mikken but it's good." 

Sansa's heart broke thinking of Mikken, the man who had been Winterfell's blacksmith during her childhood. "It is very nice," she agreed. "How am I to wear it?"

"Let me," Jon said facing her. He wrapped the chain once around her neck then slide the pointed end through the hoop pulling the chain through until the hoop rest just so between the swell of her breast and throat. The long pointed end hung down to her waist. Jon ran his fingers along

"I want you to wear this," he said giving the long chain a gentle tug. "I want you to wear this all the time. So they know."

Thread and needle through a hoop or was it a leash. Both, Sansa thought. Her eyes met his dark grey eyes almost black. She thought of red eyes, the red eyes of his wolf. Tucking the needle into her thick leather belt. Jon raised his arms to the straps over her shoulders. 

"I like these," he said. 

Sansa felt her face grow flush. She tore her eyes from his then turning her back to him. Jon took another step closer, his back against her chest. His hands moved from her shoulders down her arms. When she lifted her hands to touch the circular hoop resting just below her neck, Jon's hand moved to her waist. 

"We're wolves," she said. 

Moving to face him, "I know," he said. "That's why I gave you this." Jon tugged the chain again. 

Their lips were almost touching. It was Sansa who inched closer until her lips met his. Jon kissed her back for the longest brief moment. 

"We can't," he said cupping her face. 

Sansa leaned in again. His hand went into her hair as they kissed. His beard scratched her face. She pulled at his jerkin. 

"Sansa, we can't," he said again this time taking a step back. Jon made to leave the room. When he reached the door he looked back at her. Sansa did not move. She would not take one step towards him.

"Lady, my lady," he said with a bow. She thought she even saw him smirk. 

Sansa wore the chain every day after that.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been working on this for a week or so. Initially, I was working a JonxSansa future fic but realized I needed to explain some things about her clothing. 
> 
> Basically, my take is that the show & costume designers are b.s-ing us when it comes to the 'meaning' behind Sansa's outfits. As I was looking into her outfits, I realized her chain looks takes inspiration from S&M collars or really choke chains. 
> 
> I would love to get into how she spent most of s.8 in S&M gear...wtf...I mean really wtf...did no one bring this up while in production at any point and ask why? She was dressed in a more sexual manner than any other female character for the last two seasons but she did not have consensual sex. Whyyyyy???? (Ok there's a meta coming about this...)


End file.
